I had the opportunity to take time to be a “mystery reader” in Ms. Adams’ first grade class at Carver Primary last week, a joyful experience I highly recommend to all of you.
Seeing the happiness on the kids’ faces as you walk in the door, saving them from an otherwise humdrum and predictable day of schoolwork.
Ms. Adams had a book ready to go, a short text from the Hallmark people that was accompanied by a small, talking stuffed animal: Bigsby the Bigfoot, the miniscule version of everyone’s favorite Pacific Northwest woodland ape.
Ms. Adams laughed as I read through the text, offering color commentary to the assembled first graders about how we, that is the kids and I, knew adults could easily be fooled into thinking that sasquatches like Bigsby weren’t real. We knew better, I constantly reassured them.
Ms. Adams thought I was joking.
She ought to know me better.
Why not live in a world where the forests of Washington and Oregon are teeming with large woodland apes, entire colonies of sasquatches that try to stay hidden from the rest of mankind?
Who’s to say these noble creatures don’t just avoid human contact because all instances thus far have brought nothing but capture attempts and habitat destruction?
Is the crux of 1987’s sasquatch-ownership documentary “Harry and the Hendersons” true: even the love of a human family can’t dispel a sasquatch’s need for the outdoors?
Most importantly: who are we to tell children about what is silly to put their beliefs in?
I can think of far scarier things people put their faith in than Bigfoots. Newt Gingrich, for example.
We may live in a time that requires a seriousness of thought and mind, as economic crisis and political stagnation take hold around the globe.
We cannot, however, allow this lack of wonder and fantasy spread to the youngest among us.
Theirs should be a world of untold adventures and ultimate possibilities.
Space aliens, magical far-off kingdoms, time travel: all of those should be an easy day’s task for your average eight-year-old, giving them plenty of spar time to throw together an entire war with their plastic army men, if they so desire.
As adults who intrude upon those fragile worlds, let us be careful not to discourage creativity and interesting thoughts in their infant stages.
If we must set boundaries, let them be constructive ones that help our small friends better frame the worlds their minds create.
Let’s not tell them the Loch Ness Montser doesn’t exist; let’s tell them that “monster” is a hateful term, and Nessie, the Creature of Loch Ness, is a peaceful and happy animal that simply prefers a certain lack of human contact and then let them think of a new term we could call Nessie.
Don’t tell them the Mobile Leprechaun was probably a crackhead what got hold of the wrong stuff; have them write you a story or draw a picture about what they think could happen if a leprechaun showed up at their house.
Don’t say “Bigfoots aren’t real”; give your young tykes a chance to explain themselves and then have them work on a collage of potential things they think such an animal might need to eat.
Harness that natural creativity that these kids are wasting and put it to work telling stories, painting pictures and turning the motors of expression and creativity that could be vital for the continuance of this nation.
From this generation of dreamers could come discoveries and ideas that could change society as we know it.
So, parents, could I ask you this one favor?
Could you let your kids know about Bigfoot?
No comments:
Post a Comment